


Hand In Unlovable Hand

by danglingkeys



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Car Sex, F/M, Modern Era, Weddings, as if this fandom needed angst, maybe? - Freeform, possible happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4357001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danglingkeys/pseuds/danglingkeys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>”I didn’t mean to drag you from a wedding. You could have told me… Are you a part of the wedding party?” Clarke hesitated, gesturing to the flower.<br/>”Yea.” He said it like an insult.<br/>”Um, ok well I-”<br/>”Why am I here?” he breathed heavily. Asking himself as much as her it seemed.<br/>Clarke paused, shifting her weight.<br/>”Because I asked you to be.”<br/>”Yes but why, Clarke? 8 god damn years. Nothing for 8 years! I know med school is time consuming but… Did I mean nothing to you? And now, suddenly you turn up. Calling me late at night asking me to come to you.”<br/>”You didn’t have to” she bit back defensively.<br/>He smiled at the sky, closing his eyes in bitterness.<br/>”No… No I had to. Not coming wasn’t an option. Today is so final. I had to see you before. Just to know…”</p><p>Also known as the angsty modern au no one asked for but I wrote anyway.<br/>One-shot, possible two-shot if anyone gives a damn<br/>Title is from the song "No Children" by The Mountain Goats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand In Unlovable Hand

It’s been a while, Clarke thought, since she felt this much a fidgety wreck. Shaking in the cold, stifling a stutter in her bones. Absentmindedly rolling a bottle of rosé between her palms. Spreading condensation between her twitchy fingers.  
It was chilly for being June, the cream romper useless but pretty. Why had she opted for pretty? It wasn’t supposed to matter. He wasn’t supposed to matter this much. Or at least that’s what she’d told herself earlier that day as she straightened her hair and deliberated over blushes.

The deck of the Dropship was starting to home a few early birds. BYOB being allowed before 8pm was a much loved concept. Even cold saturday afternoons lured in a few optimists. Sitting on couches and metal chairs. Drinking watered down beer and over expensive drinks. Clarke watched them from the steps down to the grass and smiled to herself.  
It was her favorite place. Situated in one of the cities more off the grid parks. Someone had turned on the multicolored light trails now. Hanging crisscross over the entire deck. Clarke enjoyed them in a kitchy kind of way. Plus, the soft lights made even the drunkest selfies look semi-respectable in a ”this could be an artistic vision” kind of way.  
  
There was a churn in her stomach reminding her of her not so sober excursion last night. Clarke cringed. Yesterdays mistake ringing in her head, playing over and over like a sickening prelude.

 

* * *

 

  
Beer and three shots of tequila echoing through her system, she’d dared her friend Monty to get the number of the brooding man across the bar. Knowing him, shy cinnamon bun, too precious, too pure, Clarke celebrated early thinking she had it in the bank.  She’d been torn between her winners instinct and sincerely wanting Monty to get some. Especially with a prime estate such as this. Tall, dark, and button up jeans shirt.

Already having ordered her winners shot (second winners shot, but Monty didn’t have to know that) she was ready to inquire about his losers drink of choice. Monty sauntered over through the dim bar, a generous grin on his face, and shoved a scribbled on note into her face.

”His name is Nathan, and you lose girl”  
Monty grabbed the shot and downed it with a confident gleam.

”Well shit” Clarke exclaimed, if anything, impressed. ”A strawberry daiquiri please!”

”You know what this means loser.” Monty drummed the bar excitedly.

”Oh cmon, no”

”You dared me to get the guys number, saying if i did i could choose your punishment-”

”I didn’t think you’d be a fucking sadist about it!” Clarke cried.

”Not a sadist, a romantic.”

”Do you have any idea how awkward that would be? I literally haven’t spoken to the guy since i left town a billion years ago.”

”Maybe i believe in undying love!?”

Clarke gave him the sassiest brow she could muster up, looking more like a stroke victim than skeptical. Monty pursed his lips and smacked her shoulder lightly.

”Just call him and ask to meet up!” Loser, he added. Poking her in her side.

  
_Easy for you to believe._

  
She stuck her tongue out at him and pulled up her purse to pay for the drink. Monty slipped his hand between the leather folds and grabbed her phone. Making quick work of unlocking and typing.

”I’ll do it soon, whatever. You know you’re a pushy drunk ri-”

”How soon is now?”

Monty shone, pressing the phone to her ear. The hard ring piercing her eardrums through the low techno of the bar.

”Wha - Monty!?”

Ready to end the call the screen flashed in answer.  
  
”Hello?”

The voice sent a tremble through her skin. Sending her hands into a fit without cardinal direction. Fumbling she pressed the phone back to her cheek. Shooting Monty what she hoped was a death glare, Clarke hurried out into the quieter night.

”He- um Hi.” The cold night air held the pause between them. Letting herself breath before continuing. ”It’s Clarke”

Without fault, Clarke could see his face like it was yesterday. Turning stern. Hiding the twinge her voice sent through him.  
  
”Clarke” he spoke softly, speaking her name like a prayer. ”Why-”

”I’m back in town.”

”Oh. When?”

”Just yesterday”

She’d trained this. Moments at buss stops, cold coffee, light sifting through dirty windows on tangled morning sheets. When thoughts of him would sift to the surface. Reminding her that she wasn’t done. Would never be done, with this beautiful boy.

”How are you?” Pathetic, panic, grasping.

”I’m good,” he answered.

A click left his voice more clear, now surrounded by silence. He was somewhere. A party maybe, being someone. Someone she’d left and no longer knew. God what was she doing? Disrupting him. Rucking up his life that was probably settled.

”How are you doing?” he asked.

”Good, good” empty. ”So…” Spit it out its murdering your throat. To big for you ribs to hold onto. ”I want to see you, soon. How about tomorrow?”

He hummed into his phone, sending waves through the river in her chest. Finding herself praying _please please please_. Who new it was this important? Who new she cared?

”Yea tomorrow. I’ll find a window. Around 3pm?”

”Works for me. Deck of the Dropship?”

”Ok, see you then.”

”Ok”

”Clarke?”

”Yes?”

”… Goodbye Clarke.”  
  


* * *

  
  
She’d forgotten to bring glasses for the rosé. The bar could probably spare her two but the rough wood steps kept her steady. She had enough control to stand up once. Reserved for when he showed.

It’s easy to believe in yourself when you’re not in the headlights. Walking safely, in known territory. Bellamy’s a deserted road lit with blinding high beam.  
Still rolling the rosé, fingers going numb. There were steps in the gravel.

”Clarke?”

Ah, there he was.  
Absolutely, unforgivingly perfect. Like she’d never even left, and yet, so different.  
Clarke had started to think he’d forgotten her. But no. In a dark formal tux with a white flower pinned to the jacket. He was here.

  
_Wedding?_

  
”Bell,”  
The nickname tasted strange on her tongue. Maybe she’d lost the right to use it. Standing, her knees shook, hiding her nerves she excessively wiped her wet hands on the cotton shorts.

”Who’s the happy couple?”

Clarke tried, holding up the polite facade while drowning. Drowning in him. Months, years, and here he was. Hair a little longer, shoulders a little heavier, but still him. Freckles she’d counted against cold pillows. Lines she’d traced in the dark.  
Truth is, Clarke was having trouble believing it. Sun hitting him from behind, a halo around his disheveled hair.  
His mouth a hard line, he looked at her in a manner she could not decipher. Ignoring her question she thought, as he gave no intention of answering it. He only measured her. Looking almost sick at the sight.

”I didn’t mean to drag you from a wedding. You could have told me… Are you a part of the wedding party?” Clarke hesitated, gesturing to the flower.

”Yea.” He said it like an insult.

”Um, ok well I-”

”Why am I here?” he breathed heavily. Asking himself as much as her it seemed.

Clarke paused, shifting her weight.

”Because I asked you to be.”

”Yes but why, Clarke? 8 god damn years. Nothing for 8 years! I know med school is time consuming but… Did I mean nothing to you? And now, suddenly you turn up. Calling me late at night asking me to come to you.”

”You didn’t have to” she bit back defensively.

He smiled at the sky, closing his eyes in bitterness.

”No… No I had to. Not coming wasn’t an option. Today is so final. I had to see you before. Just to know…”

”What are you saying?”

Bellamy stared at her, weighing his breaths. Clarke found hers to be stuck in her chest. Tugging her towards him.

”I’m getting married, today.” He said it like sandpaper tore at his throat. Wincing even. Clarke opened her mouth to speak but he drove on, racing after his words.

”Her name’s Roma and we are perfectly fine, perfectly happy.”

”That’s gre-”

”It’s not a grand wedding, nice enough though. Just family and friends. I think she’s happy with it. We’re both happy, very happy. You know, we don’t have much. Never did. But it’s good, we’re good.”

He stared at her, as if waiting for her to say something but Clarke new better than that. Hands dug deep in his pockets Bellamy kicked some gravel and sighed. Finally looking his age. Tired, tortured, thread-bare.  
  
”You love her.”  
The words left her before she could decide if it was a question or a statement. Of course he loved Roma, but she needed to hear him say it. She didn’t want him to dance around it for the sake of her fragile sensibility.  
  
”You know,” Bellamy started. Looking anywhere but her.  ”I’ve crossed over to a place where I never thought I’d be. I’m someone I never would have imagined. So very different from the boy that fell in love with you all those years ago. But maybe, maybe I was naive coming here thinking I'd be unmoved.” His eyes met hers again and it wretched her gut. Reminding her of what a terrifying yet beautiful sight he could be. ”I’ve lost too many wars to my feelings and right now I’m trying really hard not to start a new one. So why Clarke. Why am I here?”

  
_A ring of umber on a reclaimed table. Soft denims on the floor. The last thing Clarke needs is the thought of his warmth. Like the soft light through the window now. How would she say it? Gentle, flowered turn of phrase would feel too much like defeat. Admitting the years lost to missing him were real. Not just shadows and bathroom floors, never sober, crying over him. Trying so hard not to still want him, or at least, not this badly._

  
It had ended so strangely. A contract of convenience. Two lovers agreeing the distance was too far, life too short for missed Skype calls and midnight break ups over the phone. That was it. 8 years of nothing more but sudden surges of what ifs, maybes, could i, could we? Trampled down by a girl playing grown up making grown decisions.  
  
The trees shook its leaves, rattling around them. Tearing away from branches in frustration. Clarke took a step towards him. Wanting to be close. Thinking of how his body felt next to hers in the dark. How his mouth loved her better than anything ever could. Together they had felt so right. So impeccably perfect and powerful. Like they were the reason the tide came in. A guilty pang hit her chest because she’d lost the right to think like this. Regretfully, she’d called it practical. Breaking up now instead of later. She’d instigated it then. Not knowing she’d cry without rest that night. Only to get up the next day and the next 8 years, never really filling the space she’d emptied.  
  
”I wanted to see you, but I never would have called if it hadn’t been for Monty. You remember Monty?”

There was a tug on his mouth and he nodded.

”He made me call you. Sometimes friends know you better than you know yourself I guess.”  
  
She wondered fleetingly what they looked like to passers by. A chance meeting? Two friends reuniting? Strangers? That’s what they would be. After today. A polite nod at the supermarket. Maybe even awkward small talk on the side walk. It churned the acid in her belly to think of him in such shallow scenarios. This was never going to go their way was it? They were doomed the minute they met. All Clarke could do was let it go. Not give up, just give in.  
  
She balled her trembling hands into fists. Finding that last bit of courage. Looking straight into his eyes, she felt 18 again. The fear of losing him was so real then. Still is.  
  
”You’re here because I looked for you in everyone, did you know? I’m so sorry now. I’m sorry Bellamy. I hated you for years. Trying to fixate on the faults I couldn’t find. Hoping maybe I’d stop loving all the ugly as much as the pretty but I couldn’t. I couldn’t ever and I hated you and now you’re here and I don’t hate you at all, not a little bit, not at all.”  
  
Tears were filling her eyes and this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to shake his hand and leave it all behind. Maybe share a fond memory or two. Not this, never this. She’d been trained to hold her body steady like a prize but she was falling. Piece by piece she was falling and it was too late to mend.  
  
”I thought we could meet as friends. I really wanted that. But I see now that seeing you in person was the last thing i needed. If I’m being honest, I was in too deep without your physical presence anyway.”  
  
”You have to know -”

”That you’re getting married. You’ve moved on and i’m so happy for you” the tears were racing down her cheeks but she smiled. Smiled through it like she always did. ”I’m so glad we can get past this now. But just…”  
  
Clarke took a big step forward, looking straight at him for the first time since he’d arrived. Her eyes traced the line of his eyebrows. Soaked in the suns kiss on his forehead. She was so close to him now but had never felt as far away.  
Cautiously she rested her lips only a breath away from his. Her body brushing the stark edge of his tux. Clarke closed her eyes, forcing herself to register him fully.

”Clarke,” he warned, but his voice was chaotic. This close, his throat was scented with mint and hotel soap and Bellamy, just Bellamy.

”I just want to pretend, for a second. I want to pretend that i could,”  
  
The air seemed to tremble between them. Clarke breath hitched and shook. His thumb hesitantly brushed her drenched cheek. Slowly beginning to drag against her jawline. It felt so familiar, like she could belong no were else but his arms. But it was a lie and it stung her harder than anything else to remember that this wasn’t hers. He wasn’t hers to have and it was time to let go. Drifting to the side she placed a chaste kiss to his cheek. Now clean shaven. Her Bellamy had scruff, and he wasn’t here. He wasn’t hers.  
  
”Goodbye Bell.”  
  
Clarke turned on her heel and walked away from the hum of the fairy lights and into the forest. His voice draining into the void. Joining the leaves and the wind, losing herself in the white noise. Putting distance between herself and the blazing natural disaster of a human being that was Bellamy Blake.

 

* * *

 

  
The day was dying, near bygone. Shadows craning against the pavement of the empty parking lot. Empty all but for Clarke and her dingy Saab. She leaned her head against the steering wheel in flustered silence. Refusing the claims of her heart that wanted to turn on a sappy radio station. The last thing she needed right now was a love song. She didn’t know if she wanted to kill or kiss Monty for him winning the stupid dare.

She’d wanted to see Bellamy for years, but not like this. Not in a tuxedo all ready to marry someone else. It had been 8 years. It was time she moved on. But being home again. Seeing all the familiar sights of her youth, seeing him. It brought the feelings back swinging, and they had a mean left hook.  
  
There was rain in the air. She’d felt it before it fell. Checking her mirrors now her hair was starting to curl around her puffy face. The sight was not a pretty one. Make-up all but cried away Clarke leaned back and rubbed her palms against her face. Sinking deeper into the vinyl seat as the pitter patter of the first raindrops started hitting her car.  
  
This was it. Bellamy was getting married. On Monday Clarke would start her residency at the hospital and pray she’d never have to run into him again.  
How bad can a person actually fuck up? He was the one thing she’d done right in her life, and she’d thrown it all away. For what? A degree she felt more duty to than passion for? Clarke knows that they are still young. That she’ll spend the rest of her life loving the wrong people, loving the same people twice. It’s hard letting go of someone you love but he’d let go of her first. Now she was stuck between two walls, nothing to do but get through.

”I can’t love him anymore” she sighed to herself, staring at the darkening pavement. I can’t love him and i can’t see him again. Clarke knew enough now that seeing him was loving him. She was a mess and that boy deserved the best. So she’ll let him go. If only he’ll forgive her, she’ll let him go.  
  
A brash knock on her window shook her out of her thoughts. Heart beating in her throat she turned and saw a furious Bellamy staring down at her. Clarke unlocked the door only to have him pull it open and forcefully drag her out of he car.

”Hey!” Clarke wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the absurd vision in front of her.  
  
Bellamy looked even more disheveled than before. Eyes frantic and knuckles white around the neck of her forgotten bottle of rosé.

”It’s cheap wine you didn’t have to bring it back,” her eyes darting between him and the bottle.

”I wasn’t finished before!”

 She looked at him anxiously. Slightly worried she’d pushed him into absolute madness. He lowered the bottle to the ground and ran his hands through his hair.

”You don’t get to just run off again! Not like last time!” he panted. ”You can’t just make me love you and then leave!”

”Bell, you’re gonna get your tux wet, please-” she motioned to the car but Bellamy slammed the door shut.

”No, Clarke you don’t get it do you? You don’t get it! You were the one that got away! I spent more nights than I can count lying awake because every time I closed my eyes all I saw was your face. I thought I’d get over you, but weeks became months became years and here you are. And your still fucking glorious.”

”So what do you want Bell!?” Clarke retorted angrily. ”You’re getting married! So what do you want from me?”

”I need you to break my heart. For real this time.”

”What?”

”I need you to break my heart! Tell me we can’t be together. I need you to be honest, be mean. Break my heart or i’m never going to be able to let go.”

Clarke stood in shock, rooted to the ground. Mouth hanging open in disbelief. She shook her head, not losing eye contact.

”No” she whispered, her voice building in her chest.

”No?”

”No!” she wailed. ”I don’t owe you anything! Why should i make this any easier for you when it’s fucking hell for me!?”

”You’re the one who broke up with me remember!”

”Yea and it was the stupidest mistake of my life!” she all but screamed at him. Her voice carrying across the pavement, hitting the trees and dying in the leaves.  
The rain was coming down harder now. Slicking her blond hair to her forehead. 

”And this might be the stupidest mistake of mine.”  
  
Clarke didn’t have time to react before he pushed her up against the hard metal of her car. Instinctively her hands landed on his waist as he leaned down and pushed his lips against her. It was sloppy and brash. More teeth than thought. The door handle jabbed her back but he was grabbing her ass and Clarke felt her mind begin to swim. Suddenly drowning in the most wonderful way possible.

”I’m sorry” she spoke against his lips ”I’m so sorry”. 

Forehead to forehead she searched his eyes. Looking for doubt, or anger. All she got was his lips. Kissing her like this was a war and they were losing. Like he was half as starving for this as she was.  
A moan escaped from deep in his throat as he slowly slid his hand into her wet hair. Maybe that was the only answer she was getting. Deep down, it wasn’t what she needed. Or wanted. But she took it. With all her might she took it. Soaking it into the broken shell that was left. Taking everything he had to offer and stowing it away.  
  
She reached out with her left hand and fumbled the backdoor open. Bellamy got the message, grabbing her waist and leading her into the car. Taking care not to bump her head as they dipped down into the back seat. His body felt so large hovering over her. Her foot pressed against the window trying to maneuver around the tiny space. Her skin was boiling against her cold clothes. Numbing the guilt that she knew lingered in her gut.

Clarke had to fight against every once of good judgement she had just to keep going. Fog up her mind as best she could. Only focusing on the feeling of Bellamys lips as they traced down her throat to the buttons of her top. Kissing his forehead and hair Clarke struggled with his tuxedo jacket. Not managing to get it past his shoulders. Clumsily he returned to kissing her lips, fingers fidgeting around the tiny buttons. She opened her mouth to breath him in, lips caressing his. Biting his bottom lip she pulled his belt open and stuck her hand down his pants. Feeling his erection though the fabric of his briefs. His breath hitched as Clarke slowly smoothed her hand over him, pulling her hand free only to play with the elastic.

”You always were a tease” he grunted into her lips.

”Don’t talk”

 _Too harsh_ , she thought. He didn’t seem to mind, though. 

It was best this way. Talking was intimate. Something lovers did during sex. This wasn’t that. She didn’t know what this was. A last grab at a romanticized memory maybe.

With some violent tugs and awkward maneuvering on her part Bellamy managed to get her out of her romper and underwear. Both still hanging round her right thigh. He took the ’don’t talk’ in the direction she wanted him to and aggressively pulled her ass forward so that she was fully on her back, legs on either of his shoulders. Even in a the sweaty backseat of a car he was absolutely mesmerizing from this angle.

He threw his jacket to the floor and unzipped his pants. Clarke stuck her hand in before he had the chance and pulled out his length. Sliding it effortlessly against her wetness. Her body trembled at the pressure and she gasped as his tip passed near her clit. Eyes glued to her face Bellamy spit in his hand and started rubbing himself, making his cock slick with saliva. Clarke moved him further down, slowly sliding him into place. Bellamy leaned down, his face only inches from hers.

Breath lingering on her cheek as he pressed into her. Clarke gasped and grabbed his shoulders to steady herself. Feeling him inside her was everything. Absolutely everything at once. It was first kiss at a high school party. Waiting under her window at night. Midnight calls and their first ”I love you”s.  
  
He slowly pulled out only to thrust hard into her again. Pulling a strangled groan from her throat. He continued thrusting slowly until Clarke lowered one of her legs to wrap it around his back and whispered ”harder” into his ear. He bit down on her throat and vigorously pumped in and out of her. Drawing small gasps and whimpers from her with every single one.

Bellamy shifted slightly and Clarke moaned as he hit the sweetest spot. Sending bursts of energy all the way from her groin to her teeth.

”Clarke” he choked on her name, quickly increasing the rate of this thrusts.

Not knowing when or why, tears had formed in her eyes again. So she buried her face in the crook of his neck and lavished in everything that was him. Riding the wave. Not ready for it to end.

They breathed and moved together. All without sparing another look at each other.

He came with a few last pushes, breathing ragged against her hot skin.  
  
They lay, lips brushing against each others necks for a second. Waiting for him to come back down again. She wanted him off of her before the realization of what they’d done would inevitable strike them both. Clarke scooted as best she could from out under him. He looked at her, concern darkening his face as he reached for her cheek, repeating her name. Clarke twisted and cursed under her breath as she felt cum seep out of her onto the seat.

Struggling to untangle themselves they eventually dressed in silence. She pulled on her underwear and romper. Ignoring her bra where it hung from the steering wheel.  
Bellamy shifted beside her and to avoid him she reached down for his tuxedo jacket.  
  
”Here”  
  
Clarke stared at the headrest in front of her. Unwilling to meet his gaze. She could feel his face burning her cheeks. He didn’t even touch the jacket which sent a surge of panic through her body.  
  
_Take it and show me this meant nothing to you_.  
  
”Take it!” she thrust the jacket at him, her eyes meeting his against her will and it was such a mistake. ”Take it and let me go.” Her voice cracked.  
  
_Seeing him is loving him. I can’t love him._  
  
_Let this become a distant memory. Blurring with every year that passes. Until it crosses the boundaries between dream and reality. Only then, maybe, can they forgive._  
  
They sat in silence for the longest seconds in Clarkes life. If she asked him now, would it change anything? Would he take her instead?

”I can’t do this” Bellamy sighed in defeat.

Clarke chuckled sadly, ”I’m pretty sure we already did.” Dropping her head and staring at her bare legs.

”Not.. I mean I can’t pretend to have a normal life. Seeing you every day, with this-” motioning lamely between them. Failing to clarify what ’this’ was. ”So intense and real.”

”It’s a big town” she whispered.

”It’s not that big, Clarke.”

”I have my residency.”

”Then I’ll leave town.”

She turned to him. Not bothering to hide the bitter sadness in her face.

”Well, it is your turn.”

Bellamy shook his head, ready to rebuttal but Clarke just shoved his jacket at him, ”Please Bell.”  
  
Finally submitting, he took it from her. Folding it gently around his arm.  
The rain enveloped them. Creating their own alternate reality, away from the rest of the world. From the passed 8 years. From the wedding waiting for him.

”I should have fought for you. You know, made you stay.”

”The girl I was a then wouldn’t have listened.”

”And the girl now?”

 _Lost and aching without you._

”The only girl that matters now is waiting for you in a church.”  
  
Bellamy dropped his head and nodded. He’d wanted her to say it. As much as she wanted him to. They were both so lost but it wasn’t her job to guide him back.

Her job was to break his heart.

”It's time you leave and convince yourself it meant nothing. I've let go now.”  
The lie was spun so thick it tasted like honey. Undoubtably he knew but it didn’t matter. It was a formality and now it was done.  
  
The door opened and closed and Clarke was left with the obvious emptiness beside her that made her body ache.

The rain drowned his steps and Clarke shook. Her foot caught something on the floor. Bending down she found the stem of a white flower. The one tucked into his jacket. Clarke rolled it between her fingers and finally let the tears fall again. Almost forcing them out of herself. Longing for the moment when she would feel nothing again. She reached for the radio and turned it to 104,7 letting the cover of some old love song lull her through the storm.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So like... I'm sorry?  
> I've had this idea for a fic for the longest time and I had no intention of it becoming this angsty but it just happened...
> 
> I have an idea for another chapter but I also like it ending like this.  
> So yea if anyone wants another chapter I'll post it. Otherwise this is it and I hope whomever reads it enjoys it, or whatever.  
> Just happy to be writing again :)  
> Also I'm coffeepug on tumblr (former danglingkeys)  
> Cheers!


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